


Incidental Music

by turnyourankle



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Early Days, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 14:19:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4838378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnyourankle/pseuds/turnyourankle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coffeeshop AU of sorts -- Harvey works at the DA's office, and visits the cafe where Mike works when he needs to pull an all-nighter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incidental Music

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Marvey Fic Challenge - 37 All-nighter! I think all fandoms should have an infinite number of coffeeshop AUs so I guess it was only a matter of time before I wrote one.

Harvey has been reduced to chewing on his pen. It isn’t becoming, but when the choice lies between ruining your belongings and destroying private property, one should opt for the more socially acceptable, and legal, option. So chewing it is. He'll have to toss it out before the night is over; he can’t possibly be seen with a mangled pen. It was not the kind of impression Harvey wants to make, even in the DAs office.

 

Harvey had expected the all-nighters to stop once he joined the workforce. Which, okay, was perhaps naive of him (and this is the only time anyone could ever call him naive). He’d expected long hours, sure, but he’d never gotten the impression that staying up all night would be part of his professional life. And yet, here he was, again. Paperwork and forms sprawled out in front him, and more in his briefcase waiting to be pored over. It had become a bit of a tradition, coming to the 24 hour cafe on campus whenever he needed to stay up all night.

 

He’d tried staying in the office once, but the silence grew more and more sombre as the hours went on and the dark corners made him feel like he was in some gritty legal drama, an unwitting schmuck waiting to be pounced on, which was just ridiculous. His apartment was no better, cramped and full of distractions. There was always something to do. He needed to brew a new pot of coffee or make a snack and then clean up from making the snack, and then notice that he was out of milk--it was endless. No. It’s the reason he liked the campus cafe: it was mostly occupied with students minding their own business, gears turning, however slowly, in their heads. Even though the cafe hadn’t been around in his college days, it was familiar. It was motivating.

 

But not tonight.

 

It’s only just past eleven, and the cafe is still bustling with the sound of students and night-owls wandering in for a quick hit of caffeine. Harvey is used to that, though, that’s why he comes here. What’s bothering him currently is the New Kid. If not to the cafe, then to the night shift. He is far too bright eyed and bushy tailed for someone who on the clock at this hour. Every time someone steps foot in the door he greets them, far, far too excitedly. There is no need to for this level of enthusiasm when you’re working an overnight shift. If the kid was going to remain this upbeat all night Harvey might end up actually eating his pen.

 

Harvey shoots the kid death glares as he laughs at something a customer said. He takes a deep breath and flexes his hands, stretching out his fingers. There’s not point. He tries to get back to his proofing, one sentence turning quickly into a paragraph, and he thinks he's on a roll when music starts to fill the room.

Not just any music, but some sort of overly earnest and sentimental pop atrocity that surely is blasting over all stereos on campus. He looks up to see the new kid bobbing his head along to the tune. Undoubtedly, this is his choice.

 

This is ridiculous. He should just give up now and try to find a diner where he can occupy a whole booth. Where no one would bother him and all the waiters would be women over 50 who would just leave him alone. But this was his place. Why should he have to leave a good thing when he was here first?

 

“Refill?”

 

Harvey looks up, finding the New Kid standing at his table, coffee pot in hand.

 

Harvey nods, but before offering his mug he shuffles his papers deliberately, making sure any sensitive information is out of sight. He wouldn’t expect this kid to be able to read it upside down, but you can never be too cautious. The kid notices, a small smirk tugging at his lips. Harvey watches carefully as he leans over, refilling his cup. This is the best chance he’ll have to study the kid. He has a firm grip on the pot, lean muscles flexing unnecessarily as he pours. He has nice hands, solid wrists, Harvey can tell, but that’s pointless information and he pushes it to the back of his mind.

 

“Are you planning on staying here all night?” The kid says, nodding at Harvey’s stack of documents.

 

“Are you?”

 

“They’re paying me to, so yeah,” the kid says, a smug expression on his face. He resumes humming along to the tune. He just has to rub it, doesn’t he?

 

“This is your music, correct?”

 

“Yeah! You like it? It’s the _One Tree Hill_  soundtrack, hot from the factory.” He seems way too excited to be sharing this information, smile tugging at his lips. As if this would be relevant to Harvey’s interests at all.

 

“No." Harvey leans back in his seat. He has no intention on playing along with this nonsense. "It’s incredibly distracting.”

 

“More of an _O.C._  man, are you?” The kid’s unphased, lips quirking in a devious little smile. He thinks he's being clever, the little shit. Very fucking amusing.

 

Harvey isn't going to dignify that with an answer, and yet-- “ _Please_.”

 

“Most of the students like this kinda stuff. Especially at night. Keeps them pumped, ” the kid says, still wearing a grin that was too smug for Harvey’s liking. He adds a head tilt and tucks his free hand in his apron pocket. It looks ridiculous on him; oversized and over starched. If Harvey didn’t know he was new the apron alone would give it away.

 

“I don’t need to be ‘pumped’,” Harvey responds. Really, the only place you should be pumped was at the gym. “I just want to get my work done, in peace, without the distraction of inane lyrics being whined in a way that would only appeal to teenagers.”

 

“You must be a joy to be in class with,” the kid says, and actually chuckles.

 

“You think I’m a student?” Harvey narrows his eyes at that: it’s impossible to tell if the kid is trying to poke fun at him or if he’s sincere. He may not be wearing his office attire, but surely there’s no way he could confused for someone still in school.  The kid just shrugs.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with being a mature student,” he sounds genuine, and it’s an odd contrast to the way he’s been snarking Harvey so far. Before he has a chance to respond, the kid turns on his heel, off to pester more customers and refill their mugs.

 

But Harvey notices that once the kid is back behind the counter, the music changes. Something instrumental. It sounds like the score from _Jaws_ \-- actually, it definitely is, Harvey would be his job on it. This is unexpected, but at least he can work to this.

  
  


-

  
  


The kid shows up at his table again a couple of hours later, clearing off Harvey’s now empty plates. Harvey would nod in appreciation, perhaps throw in a jab about how the only CDs the kid seems to have around are soundtracks (the music has changed to what Harvey’s pretty sure is _The Lord of The Rings_ score) but the kid is so quick and silent that Harvey doesn’t notice him until he’s leaving. Perhaps he’s not completely useless after all.

 

Watching the kid bus the other tables, Harvey feels how stiff his neck is and stretches it out, he lets his fingers dig into the sore tendons. Harvey watches the kid return to the counter, lean back casually, picking up a book. He worries his lower lip, as if the world of the book has already sprouted around him and nothing around him matters all that much. Harvey hasn’t had the chance to get lost in a novel in ages; actually, probably not since college. He almost envies it, the ease with which the kid seems to slip into this the world of his book.

 

The more his fingers work out the kinks in his neck the more the rest of him feels stiff and tired. He gets up, straightening his back until he can feel the burn.

 

“If you need a break, I can watch your stuff.” The kid has silently appeared at his table, book still in one hand but from the look he’s giving Harvey it seems like he’s forgotten all about it.

 

“I’m not leaving my things with you,” Harvey says and while it's true, it comes out sharper than intended. He does need a break.

 

The kid shrugs, as if this doesn’t bother him at all. “Well, I can save your spot. Seems like you’ve made yourself quite at home.”

 

Harvey nods; an acceptable compromise. Although he’s not concerned that someone will stroll in at 4 AM and steal his spot, really.

 

The kid offers his free hand, “I’m Mike.”

 

“Harvey.” The handshake is surprisingly solid, Mike’s hand is firm and dry. He has a glint in his eyes, as if he just won this one, which intrigues Harvey, ever so slightly. He has a good chance to study the kid’s--Mike’s-- face now, he’s got long lashes and bright blue eyes. And while his face is fresh he probably isn’t as young as Harvey originally thought. Mike maintains eye contact easily, which is impressive. Especially for a college student.  “Thanks.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Harvey,” Mike says and actually beams. The door jingles and he wanders  back to the counter to deal with the new arrivals. Harvey closes his folders and packs them away in his briefcase. He almost grabs his coat but decides against it. If the kid-- if Mike -- can’t handle watching over a coat, what good is he?

  
  


-

  
  


Harvey returns from a brisk walk to find his coat and spot intact.

 

Around 6 AM he calls it, packing up his work for real. He needs to head home and shower and change before work.The morning shift has started and a familiar face is working the till when he gets another coffee to go.  

 

Mike is working across the room and Harvey tries to catch his eye.  He'd like to thank him for watching over this things-- although, really, should he have to? Mike was only doing his job, after all. He seems too focused on the conversation he’s having with the customer to notice him. Harvey sips his coffee, something tugging at his gut. Exhaustion, probably.

  
  


-

  
  


Harvey has no reason to return to the cafe for a couple of weeks, so he doesn’t. When he finds himself in the neighborhood after a dinner date that was cut short (through no fault of his own), he doesn’t hesitate to poke his head inside. Just to see if things have returned to normal.

 

The blonde at the till takes his order with a practiced smile. He asks for his americano to go and scans the room reflexively. Mike is nowhere to be seen, and the room is strangely silent. He pays and buttons up his coat, preparing to head out shortly as we waits for his coffee.

 

“Harvey, fancy seeing you here at such a reasonable hour,” Mike says, rounding the corner and popping in behind the espresso maker.

 

“I could say the same thing to you,” Harvey says, and Mike smiles.

 

“Americano to go, was it?”

 

“For here, actually,” Harvey corrects. He hadn’t expected his date to end so early, anyway. What was the harm in enjoying his coffee in peace? Undoing the buttons he just did up, he takes off his coat, and folds it over his arm.

 

Mike glances back at him and lets out a low whistle. “Nice outfit. All dressed up for a night of studying? You’re really giving it your all.”

 

“Ha, ha.” Harvey rolls his eyes, there’s no way he’d waste this suit on an all-nighter. But he appreciates the appreciation, however snarky it may be. “I’ll be over there.” He nods at his usual spot.

 

Mike drops off his drink along with a square of chocolate.

 

“Hey, I told you, I think mature students are cool. It takes a lot of guts to go for what you want later in life." 

 

“Be that as it may, I am not a student.” Harvey punctuates this by taking a sip. The drink is hot and strong, perfectly settling in his mouth. He thinks he catches Mike staring at his lips for the briefest of seconds. Good.  

 

After a pause, he continues, “I did do my undergrad here, though.”

 

“Which means you continued after that. Let me guess...” Mike pauses dramatically, and makes a show out of looking Harvey up and down. Harvey just continues to sip his drink; if the kid needs an excuse to take a good look at him, who is he to deny it? “Lawyer.”

 

Harvey nods, and Mike beams. “Don’t you wanna know how I know?”

 

Mike’s excitement is amusing, but Harvey has no interest in indulging him just yet. It’s not like it was a hard guess. He settles for a shrug. “Not really.”

 

Mike isn’t thrown off, just continues, “I’m pre-law.”

 

“Oh?” Harvey studies him carefully. Mike’s eyes are locking with his, easily, and again he’s impressed that this kid isn’t even a little bit intimidated. “Technically speaking, everyone who has yet to attend law school is pre-law.”

 

Mike actually chuckles at that, and okay, Harvey is officially intrigued.

 

“Alright, Harv.”

 

“Don’t call me that, Mike,” Harvey says and it just slips out; he hadn’t intended on letting Mike know he remembered his name, but there you go.

 

He grins at that, and Harvey thinks he can actually see a little glint in Mike's eyes. All he says before walking away is, “You got it, sir.”

 

Mike returns to the counter, and he heads straight for the stereo. This time the _Blade Runner_ soundtrack fills the room, and it’s all Harvey can do but stifle a chuckle. There is no way this is a coincidence.

 

\--

 

When Harvey returns to the cafe a week later, and Mike greets him at the counter, smug grin flashing over his face.

 

He doesn’t even let Harvey order and goes to make an americano right away. Considering Harvey’s only ordered it once when Mike’s been there, he’s ever so slightly impressed. Not only by his memory, but for being so bold as to assume that what could have been a one-time drink was actually his regular order.

 

“On the house for today, looks like you’ve got a lot of important work to do,” Mike says, and Harvey can’t quite figure out if Mike’s being sarcastic or not. He has a stack of paperwork with him, but it’s nothing he won’t finish in about an hour.

 

The _Star Wars_ score is playing, and he’s curious as to how long it’s been on. If he’s not mistaken, this is the opening track. From the little he knows about Mike, he wouldn’t put it above him to have put it on when he saw Harvey approaching.

 

“I’m surprised they let you control the stereo,” Harvey says, taking the gamble.

 

“Is this not old enough for your liking?”

 

Harvey smirks. “ _Star Trek_ is better, anyway.”

 

“Oh, I see,” Mike says, and he seems to mean it. As if he's now become privy to some deep dark secret Harvey's been holding on to. 

 

Harvey’s about to counter when he notices that the pen Mike has tucked behind his ear is his: the chewed up monstrosity from weeks ago has found it’s way snug against Mike’s head. He clears his throat, suddenly lenient.

 

“The classical film scores aren’t really my thing.” Harvey pauses. He can tell Mike is trying very hard to not react to this information. He continues, “I mean, I don’t dislike it, but if you’re doing this for me, it’s unnecessary.”

 

“Why would I be doing this for you?” Mike asks, and it must be nerves, the way his fingers removes the pen from behind his ear and sticks it in his mouth. He bites down on it lightly, and it’s all Harvey can do not to steal a glance at his mouth, and the way his jaw works as his teeth worry the plastic.

 

He shrugs, and chooses this moment to saunter off to a new spot. Tucked away in a corner, with a clear view of the counter. Today, the work is easy.

 

\--

  
  


“So what do you like?” Harvey swallows down the last of his drink. Carefully placing the mug back on its saucer. He leans back, confidently, gauging Mike’s interest. It seems genuine. The way his face is open, it almost seems like Mike would take anything Harvey says at face value. As much as it’s flattering, he can’t help but think it’s a dangerous trait to have. Mike could easily get hurt that way.

 

Harvey chooses to be sincere. “Jazz and blues, mostly.”

 

Mike ponders this, but doesn’t waste time clearing away Harvey’s dishes. He quickly wipes down the table. “I don’t know much about it.”

 

Mike had been decent, why not throw him a bone? He sounds bored and when he says, “I could  give you a quick primer, if you’re interested.”

 

Mike actually smirks at that. “Are you planning on showing me your record collection?”

 

Harvey can already tell that he’s probably going to regret this. He shrugs, noncommittally. This is not an issue he’s going to press.

 

“My record collection is strictly off limits,” he says, but mentally adds _for now_. The thought catches even him off guard. “But there are some good jazz bars around that have excellent live music. There’s one not too far from here, actually.”

 

Harvey expects Mike to counter with some snarky comment, but instead he just smiles brightly, and answers, “I like the sound of that.”

  
  


-

  
  


They settle on a day the following week. Mike insists that they meet there because he can walk over from work. It’s against Harvey’s principles to be left waiting, and he says as much.

 

“I can be on time!”

 

“I don’t know a single college kid who's timely,” Harvey says. “Except for me, when I was in college.”

 

“Of course,” Mike says and nods, and shoots him a look like he’s placating him. “Things were different back in the day, weren’t they? Timeliness was next to Godliness, and all that.”  

 

“You’re not doing much to demonstrate your maturity.”

 

“You’re the one who keeps talking about how young I am, I’m just adhering to the already established rules of conduct.” He may have a point, but Harvey’s not going to let him know it.

  
  


-

  
  


When Harvey arrives at the cafe Mike is still working, and he pats himself on the back for being right about his timeliness. Mike grimaces apologetically when their eyes meet, and Harvey quirks his eyebrows. He wanders over to the magazine rack, considering whether he should give Mike shit for keeping him waiting when he’s the one doing him a favor. It’s not a difficult decision.

 

Harvey feels a hand press against his shoulder, and he turns to face Mike. He’s standing awfully close, and this time they only lock eyes for a second or two. It’s almost like Mike’s gone nervous, suddenly, eyes shifting and hand falling away from Harvey’s shoulder simultaneously.

 

Harvey leans back on his heels, says, “So you had to keep me waiting anyway.”

 

“It was so busy, I couldn’t leave Jenny to deal with it alone. Should be good now.”

 

Harvey nods and decides to let it slide for now. Mike’s changed into a button down shirt, decent enough for a college kid, and his hair has been ruffled in an attempt to style it. He slips on a jeans jacket and they head out.

 

The bar is about twenty minutes away, and it’s a surprisingly pleasant walk. Mike practically bounces on his feet the whole way to the bar: he has the restless energy of someone who’s been working all day but hasn’t been stimulated enough intellectually. It’s kind of endearing, but also kind of annoying.

 

Harvey listens Mike ramble on about his TAs and the regulars at the cafe. He doesn’t bring up being pre-law again, but considering the classes he’s talking about--and the sheer amount he seems to be taking--he certainly wasn’t joking when he said that’s the track he was on. He mentions so many classes, and Harvey has to wonder briefly if the course load has changed since he was at Columbia-- he’s not sure how Mike has time for all that and to work at the cafe, and have time for anything else.

 

He tugs on Harvey’s coat for his attention, and it’s so earnest, Harvey lets him get away with it just this once.

 

“I really hope this place has food because I’m starving,” Mike says, dramatically. He’s still smiling, though, so he can’t be that starved.

 

“I never said anything about food. Surely you’re old enough to feed yourself. Harvey straightens out his coat, and gracefully takes it off when they enter the bar. “May I also point out that you work in a cafe. Food should be the least of your concerns. ”

 

“A man can only eat so many muffins.”

 

“A man, perhaps, but not a child.”

 

“We’re back to the age thing again? The way you keep going it’s enough to give a lesser guy an age complex.”

 

“Oh, so now you’ve demoted yourself from man to  guy?”

 

“It’s a compromise,” Mike grins and it’s definitely flirty, the way he deliberately looks Harvey square in the eye.

 

They settle at the bar, where they won’t be crowded by couples on dates, or have to deal with a waiter juggling tables. Mike makes himself comfortable quickly, not even paying attention to the fact that he hardly fits in with the rest of the crowd. He’s leaning back, elbows propped up on the bar.

 

Harvey orders a scotch, neat, and gestures for Mike to pick something while they have the bartender’s attention. Mike gets a beer, Heineken, of course. It could be worse, Harvey supposes.  He also asks for chips and dip, and Harvey adds a cheese plate to that order. Some semblance of class must be maintained.

 

Harvey starts a tab and the bartender assumes he’s paying for them both. He hadn’t necessarily planned on doing that, but he doesn’t correct him. It’s fine, really. Mike probably doesn’t have much to spare, and Harvey is the reason they're here.

 

The band comes on without much fanfare and Mike seems captivated, if not by the music, then by what Harvey tells him about it. He locks eyes with him as he swallows down his beer, and Harvey’s can’t help but look at the way his throat moves when he does.

 

Harvey very rarely misinterpret people’s intentions and interests: that’s what makes him such a good lawyer. But the way Mike’s acting tonight has him ever so perplexed. He’s been slipping in and out of what Harvey assumes is his date mode. The labels on Mike’s beer bottle has slowly been peeled off, but then again, he's drinking beer from the bottle. And the way Mike eats his chips-- he alternates between stuffing them in his mouth and loudly chewing and then licking the salt of his fingers with panache.

 

Harvey hadn’t planned for this to be a date: his dates are unmistakable, thank you very much, but he’s not sure what Mike thinks this is. He decides to take a chance.

 

“That girl, she’s a shoe-in.” Harvey says and gestures vaguely in the direction of a table where a cute brunette sits alone. She’s been scanning the room throughout the evening, not like she’s waiting for someone, but like she’s assessing the clientele. Harvey’s noticed her gaze pause on Mike a couple of times now.

 

“Oh? Shoe in for what?” Harvey doesn't need to answer that. Mike glances over briefly, and Harvey can tell the girl and Mike’s eyes meet from the way she smiles. Mike just returns his gaze to Harvey’s. Calm, and serious.

 

“I like my present company enough,” Mike sounds calm and serious and it would be a lie to say his tone isn’t doing something to him, right now. Something he probably shouldn't be thinking about in public.

 

Harvey narrows his eyes ever so slightly, a question in them. He might not have started the evening thinking of this as a date, but it’s a stance he’s willing to reconsider. But either Mike’s not picking it up or he’s just choosing not to acknowledge it. To say anything out loud would be gauche at this point, so Harvey just lets it slide. There will be time to rectify this later.

 

Harvey settles the bill when Mike takes a trip to the bathroom, his three beers having made their way through his system.

 

He seems a little bit flushed when he returns, and quiet as they put their coats back on.

 

“Thank you.” Mike mutters as they step outside, and it sounds oddly sincere. Harvey’s not even sure what Mike is thanking him for. The company, the music, the drinks? All of it?

 

He settles for the music. “Just passing on the knowledge.”

 

“My bike is back at the cafe.” He says, and Harvey can only nod. Using the moment of silence to collect himself. He smooths his hair back down, somehow it got mussed.

 

“I’ll walk back with you. But you’ve been drinking,” Harvey says as they start walking. He adds, “Riding a bike when you’re drunk is still a illegal, you know.”

 

“I’m not drunk,” Mike says. They’ve stopped at a street corner and Mike looks at him so seriously Harvey’s not sure what to make of it. It’s probably the most intense look he’s seen on Mike, and it’s trained right on him. He’s practically boring a hole through his eyes.

 

“I really want to kiss you,” Mike says at last, and now a smile breaks out over his face. Harvey can spot the pale freckles on the bridge Mike’s nose, and the way his eyes are hooded and how long his lashes are,  and the way he licks his lips and-- well, damn. Harvey can’t believe he’s being beaten to this by some goddamn kid.

 

He takes the upper hand the only way he can, leaning in and pressing his mouth against Mike’s. They start slow, mouths closed but it’s not tentative at all. Harvey hasn't had much to drink, but the kiss tickles him all the way down to his groin. Mike doesn’t hesitate to grab hold of the lapels of Harvey’s coat, tugging him closer. He’s assertive, nipping gently at Harvey’s lips before leaning back. His fingers are still holding tightly onto Harvey’s coat, and he lets go, smoothing the lapels back down with a smile.

 

“Well, that works,” Mike says, grin still in place, and starts walking away. That little fucker.

 

They reach a red light, and Mike scans the intersection, about to step out onto the street when Harvey grabs his hand and pulls him back.

 

“No jaywalking.”

 

“How are you going to stop me?” Mike says, and it almost sounds coy, but Harvey knows better by now. He grabs hold of Mike’s other hand and yanks him closer. This time he leads the kiss, and it doesn’t take long for them both to be out of breath. Mike tastes like beer and salt and normally the beer would be a huge turn-off, but right now? Right now he can’t get enough. He cradles Mike’s head, thumb idly rubbing his cheek, and the way Mike groans in response is music to Harvey’s ears.

 

They break it off slowly this time, pressing their lips together for small pecks. They’re faces are still so close that Harvey thinks me might get cross-eyed.

 

“That definitely works, too,” Mike says, and Harvey is pleased with how breathy he sounds. “Is that how you’re planning to stop me from biking home? Because it might actually work. Just saying.”

 

Harvey smirks, and takes a step back. He adjust the collar of Mike’s jacket, letting his fingers linger. He grabs the back of Mike’s head gently, massaging the nape of his neck.

 

“Perhaps,” he says, and they cross the street together.

 

“Alright, for you, I’ll take my bike on the subway.” Mike says. “You can watch me carry it on and everything.” Mike is actually smirking as he says this, and Harvey gently slaps his ass.

 

“Smartass.”

 

“You love it,” Mike says and cuts off any response Harvey could have by pulling him close and kissing him again.

 

Next time, Harvey's going to do it right. But for now, this definitely works.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first fic I've written in about four years, and it's my first venture into Suits land. I'm feeling a little rusty but hopefully that shall dissipate over time. This is unbeta'd so all errors are my own.


End file.
